Back On Dry Land
by aVerySpecialAgent
Summary: Abby takes the team to that Brain Matter concert they were all so dsiappointed to miss out on. Not everyone is there for the music though... What began as a post-ep for Chimera has become a Tiva fic! Fourth and final chapter up now.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Well, here goes nothing. My first fic posted to this site, and the first one I've managed to complete. This my little add-on to the NCIS episode Chimera, in which Gibbs' team returns to base, and Abby is happy. I don't think there's any spoilers, besides the obvious ones from Chimera. Maybe a tiny reference to Driven and the sexual harassment seminar.

--

**Back On Dry Land**

Abby slouched in Gibbs' chair, nervously swinging it back and forth in half circles as she stared blankly around the deserted squad room. In one hand she clutched Bert the stuffed hippo, in the other a half-empty cup of coffee that Gibbs had left on his desk. It was stone cold - and the lack of sugar, artificial sweetener or fizziness was almost unbearable for Abby's Caff-Pow addicted taste buds - but she sipped it anyway, leaving a blood-red lipstick stain on the white lid.

Abby hated waiting. She was a generally impatient person, and that coupled with the fact that she'd just been told Gibbs and his team had narrowly avoided being blown up on a ghost ship (Okay, so maybe the Director hadn't mentioned the ghost part, but it sure seemed that way) had set her off into a fidgeting, worrying state.

She set Bert down on Gibbs desk and gazed into his shiny black eyes, as if willing him to say something. "I know I shouldn't be worried," she began. "They're fine. I just wish they'd hurry up and come back. What are they doing anyway? The Director said something about papers and death certificates and medical examiner stuff, so maybe Ducky got held up." She paused to gauge his reaction. Bert stared back, motionless. She blew out a sigh and continued. "They nearly got blown up on Halloween. How creepy is that? All the top-secret stuff too – Marine Biology! What does a Russian Nuclear Warhead have to do with Marine Biology?"

"A lot, apparently," a familiar voice answered.

"Gibbs!" Abby was out of the chair in seconds, sending it flying backwards into the filing cabinet. She intercepted him halfway to his desk, throwing her arms around his neck. "You're alive! Well I mean I knew you were alive, but it's Halloween and there's all this freaky ghost ship stuff and Director Shepard said you were getting attacked by pirates and Ziva kicked ass – well, one of the pirate's asses anyway – and then you stole their boat and took the warhead and then the ship blew up and -"

Gibbs held a finger to her lips, silencing her instantly. "We're fine," he assured her.

Abby nodded, stepping sideways so that Gibbs could walk to his desk. She walked over to McGee, who was standing with Ziva and Tony, the two of whom had been listening to Abby's rant with much amusement.

"You barfed, didn't you?" she asked him.

He replied with a small curt nod.

"Aww, poor Timmy!" Abby cooed, hugging him. He appreciated the gesture, and despite the downgrading feeling it gave him, he was pretty sure that hadn't been her intention.

She moved on to Tony. "I'm proud of you for carrying that rat," she told him in a motherly tone before pulling him into a bear hug. "And I'm sorry you thought you were gonna die," she added, her face becoming solemn.

Tony frowned. "Who told you that?" He looked over at Gibbs, whose expression bore a striking resemblance to a smirk. "Oh," Tony said, mentally answering his own question.

Abby grinned at Tony, the moved to stand in front of Ziva.

"Permission to hug?" she asked timidly.

Ziva allowed herself a warm smile for the other woman. "You do not need to ask, Abby."

Almost before the words had left her mouth Abby had wrapped the other woman in a tight hug. "Ghosts?" she inquired, her voice muffled by Ziva's hair. She stepped back to look at her, arms remaining firmly clamped around Ziva's.

The woman in question executed a dramatic eye roll. "In Mossad we are trained to be aware of the things that we cannot explain," she told Abby, giving her a simpler version of what she had attempted to explain to Tony.

"Sweet!" Abby's eyes lit up. Tony and McGee watched with interest from their vantage point a few feet away, both with the feeling that Abby had just gained new respect for Ziva.

"McGee!" Tony suddenly snapped, causing the younger agent to jump. "We're hungry."

McGee looked around, met with similar expressions from Abby and Ziva. Already on his way to the elevator, he sighed. "Chinese okay?"

He glanced over at Gibbs, who was casually staring at him. "And coffee," he added as the elevator doors closed in front of him.

--

Gibbs strode through the Director's door unannounced, as per usual. Cynthia's protests fell on deaf ears and she rolled her eyes, focusing a glare on the office door which had closed firmly behind him.

Jenny looked up from a pile of paperwork, observing Gibbs over the rim of her glasses with an unreadable expression as he took the seat across from her.

"Come in, Jethro. Make yourself at home," she told him, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Gibbs merely stared back in reply, with a small smile.

"You hijacked a Russian ship?" She inquired, one eyebrow raised.

"Borrowed," Gibbs corrected. "And something tells me that they ain't gonna mind much now."

Jenny removed her glasses, taking her time folding them and placing them carefully in their leather case.

Gibbs broke the somewhat awkward silence that ensued, a small smirk on his face. "You were worried."

Jenny's eyes shot up to meet his. "Wouldn't you have been?" She asked incredulously.

His amused expression remained firmly in place as he stood to leave. "Yeah," he told her, pausing in the doorway. "I would."

Jenny was left staring at the closed door, pondering the significance of their short exchange.

--

Gibbs paused on the MTAC balcony to observe his team. When they didn't know he was watching, there was a lot the boss could learn about his currently relaxed agents. Correction – When Tony and McGee didn't know he was watching. Ziva always knew, and Abby was an entirely different matter. Currently, the three agents and one Forensic Scientist were crowded around Ziva's desk, sharing out boxes of Chinese take-out. Ziva sat poised behind her desk, smiling and laughing with the others yet still on full alert and constantly monitoring her surroundings, ready to whip out her knife at a moment's notice should the need arise. Tony, on the other hand, was stretched out on his office chair with his feet up on Ziva's desk, dangerously close to her take-out noodle box. He balanced his food on his lap, occasionally dropping stray items of food onto the ground but making no effort to retrieve them. McGee perched on the opposite corner of the desk, obviously feeling the need to stay far away from the danger's of Tony's feet and Ziva's… Well, Ziva. Meanwhile, Abby had rolled Gibb's chair over to join them and wedged herself in next to Ziva, slurping her noodles in between bouts of dizziness caused by rapidly spinning the office chair in circles. Ziva chose to ignore the fact that every time Abby spun full-circle, her knees bumped into Ziva's chair and knocked her sideways.

"I can't believe you _actually _thought you were going to die," McGee told Tony, pleased at his uncomfortable expression but disappointed as it turned into a grin.

"I don't remember you ever catching, let alone surviving Pneumonic Plague, McSeaSick. I have rights."

Ziva smiled sympathetically at McGee. However, her smile rapidly switched to a frown as she was smacked in the hip by a flying set of knees. However patient she was, enough was enough for Ziva as she had lost count of the time's she'd been hit. She was about to say something when Abby suddenly grabbed the desk and stopped mid-spin.

"Hi Gibbs!" Abby exclaimed, saving McGee who was still stammering for a response to Tony.

Gibbs smiled, one of those saved-especially-for-Abby smiles, and quirked an eyebrow at her as he noticed his missing chair. Despite Abby's best 'innocent angel' expression, at which Gibbs couldn't help but grin, he loosely gripped her shoulders and towed her back to his desk and the rightful position of his chair. He then took her hands, pulled her up and out of the chair, placed a quick kiss on her cheek and stepped around her to sit down at his desk.

Abby, wearing a wide, somewhat goofy grin, walked around the front of his desk and sat on it, facing Tony, McGee and Ziva. She picked Bert up and cuddled him to her chest. A tapping motion on her back caused her to turn around. Gibbs was staring at her, his lipstick-stained coffee cup held up for her to see.

"Wasn't me," she told him, not bothering with the innocent act, nor the fact that nobody else in the room – and probably the entire building – wore lipstick that colour.

He held her gaze and she eventually dissolved into giggles. Gibbs gave her a strange look, shook his head and downed the rest of the coffee.

Abby, having recovered from her mild fit of insanity, turned back around to the other agents with sparkling eyes and a mischievous look upon her face. "You're all busy November seventh," she stated in a serious tone, making a point of locking eyes with all three of them.

Confused looks were exchanged. "Why?" Ziva finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Abby's response was simple. "Brain Matter."

--

A/N: Voila. There it is. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review, as this is my first completed NCIS fic and I'd love to know what you thought. You know that little lavender-ish button is calling you!


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Post-Chimera. I wasn't planning on this being any more than a oneshot, but M E Wofford's review of part one gave me the idea of continuing it. Big thank-you and hugs go out to you!

So it is now a three part. Expect chapter three sometime in the next couple weeks... And who knows, someone might review and give me inspiration to continue it further. – Insert blatantly obvious hinting here –

Pairings: Tiva. Eventually, I think.

Spoilers: Part one of this story and the episode Chimera.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. _Nothing. _Except the season one DVD and my dreams. I haven't seen any of season six yet (good old New Zealand is waaay behind) so if there's been some massive change in character dynamics or something, don't expect to see it here.

---

"I can't _believe _I let you talk me into it," Tony whined, glaring at Ziva before dramatically thumping his head down on his desk.

"Talk you into what?" Ziva asked innocently, twirling a loose strand of hair around her pencil.

Tony snapped his head back up, and Ziva failed to suppress a bout of laughter when she noticed the bright pink paperclip stuck to his forehead, no doubt collected during said body part's brief-but-violent encounter with his messy desk.

He rolled his eyes at her across the space between their desks. "You _know_ what, miss lie-detector-spy-assassin-ninja chick."

Ziva gave him a sweet smile and leaned forward, resting her elbow on the desk and he chin on her hand. "Oh, the concert tonight?"

"Yes, the concert tonight," Tony told her. "It doesn't take a ninja to figure out I'm not really looking forward to it."

Ziva gracefully stood up and moved to Tony's desk, balancing on the balls of her feet and leaning forward so she was looking down at him and only inches away from his face. "Aww, are you scared to go to the concert?" She inquired with a look of pity directed at him.

"I'm not scared!" Tony exclaimed, very quick to defend himself. "But you know what Abby's like. She's… unique. Yeah, that's the word."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "You do not like her music?"

"Do you?" Tony shot back.

Ziva paused for a moment to consider her answer. "I do not dislike it. Yes, it is certainly different and yes, sometimes I find certain lyrics to be… Offensive to me. But it is not terrible."

Tony nodded, unsure of what to say, as he hadn't exactly been expecting a serious answer to his comeback. "The fans are kinda freaky," he told her hesitantly.

"Can't handle a few Goths, Tony?" McGee shot at him with a smug grin as he walked past Tony's desk.

"More like a few hundred Probie and _yes, _I can. Doesn't mean I want to!" Tony replied, never one to let the younger agent win. He looked down at his watch, hiding a grimace. "It's seven," he announced. The concert started at ten.

"Er, yes," Ziva agreed, failing to understand the significance of the hour. "Theoretically I should be gone, but instead I am standing here talking to you."

"Nice to know I'm that important, but you're not here for me. Don't think I didn't catch you eyeing up your phone every thirty seconds. Expecting a call?" Tony decided to try his luck, despite the fact that probing into the Israeli's private life probably had a higher chance of death than leaping off a large building. Into a pool of sharks.

However, Ziva took the opportunity not to employ her knife skills, instead focusing a raised eyebrow at Tony. "Yes, actually."

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"You are presuming they are male."

Tony pushed back in his chair, squinting as he attempted to determine whether or not she was joking.

The elevator dinged and he glanced up just as Abby careened around the corner, pigtails swinging as she balanced awkwardly on 4-inch heeled boots. She skidded to a stop in front of Ziva's desk, blood-red lips giving way to bright white teeth as she smiled. "Ready to go?" She asked, dropping her black shoulder bag onto the desk.

"Almost," Ziva replied, obviously amused by the other woman's enthusiasm. "You didn't call," she added.

Abby clapped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. "Oops! Sorry! I was going to, but then I finished up n the lab and I was really excited and I kinda just ran up here…"

Ziva shook her head, smiling. "Can you bear waiting ten minutes or so?"

"Sure can!" Abby assured her. Skipping over to McGee's desk, she flopped into his chair and rolled it into the aisle that separated Tony and Ziva's desks.

"Go where?" Tony finally asked, giving in to the curiosity that had been building since Abby arrived.

"My place," Abby answered simply. Bored with spinning the chair, she jumped up and casually stood behind Ziva, fiddling with the Israeli's straightened hair.

Tony forgot his curiosity for a full ten seconds, gaping in shock when Ziva didn't shrug Abby off or tell her to go away. Or pull a freaky more and slam her hand to the desk. She just continued to type, completely content with Abby playing hairdresser.

Tony decided it must be a sisterly thing – he had noticed the pair acting friendlier over the last month or so, after McGee, Ziva, Gibbs and himself had returned from the 'haunted' ship. Even though their age difference was nearly non-existent, it seemed as if Abby had begun to look up to the woman whom she had once hated.

Noticing that he had been ignored, Tony cleared his throat loudly. "Abby's kidnapping you?"

Though the question had been directed at Ziva, Abby jumped in to answer before Ziva could even consider her reply. "Yup," she told him with a sly grin, "I'm taking her home to dress her up for the concert."

"I do not know why I agreed to that part…" Ziva added with another small shake of her head.

"What _I _want to know is what she did to persuade you," Tony said, mentally crossing his fingers. He silently prayed that Ziva understood the joke he was implying.

Abby giggled. "Wouldn't you like to know," she told him teasingly. She winked at Ziva, then bent down to whisper in her ear. "Play along."

After a moment of confusion, Ziva got the message and smiled mischievously, leaning sideways into Abby with their faces mere inches apart. Dropping her voice to a husky, slightly secretive tone, she stage whispered to Abby, "I thought that was to be just between the two of us!"

"Oh, don't feel you need to keep any secrets, ladies."

Tony was leaning back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head, feet crossed at the ankles and resting on his desk. He watched with an expression that fell somewhere between disbelief and dreamlike fascination.

McGee surveyed his co-worker's antics from behind his desk; a safe distance away from Ziva should Tony take his joke too far. However, he had a feeling Ziva was enjoying this way too much to even contemplate maiming Tony. She seemed to have discovered, with the help of Abby, that torture could be successful and a hell of a lot of fun at the same time. Then again, she probably already enjoyed torturing people a little too much. McGee shook the thought from his mind. He really didn't want to think about that right now.

"So," Tony began, masking his shock with a trademark DiNozzo grin, "You two having a sleepover?"

Abby tilted her head to the side. "Yeah. One problem though…" she gazed skywards, deep in thought. "I've only got one coffin."

Ziva tapped her shoulder lightly. "I do not mind sharing," she told her, focusing an intense gaze at Abby, who grinned back. "That's sorted then," she said, and suddenly leaned forward to kiss Ziva's cheek with an exaggerated "Mwah!"

Looking down at her watch, she gasped. "Time to go!" she announced, dragging Ziva out of her chair by the wrist. Ziva grabbed an overnight bag from under her desk. Halfway to the elevator, Abby skidded to a stop, still latched on to Ziva who stopped with a jolt.

"You're gonna owe me _big time _for letting you drive," she said, prodding Ziva with a pointed finger.

Ziva leaned forwards and gazed upwards, taking advantage of their significant height difference. "I am sure we can figure something out," she told Abby. "Right, Tony?" she added, looking back at her colleagues.

Speechless, Tony could only nod in agreement.

Allowing Abby to lead her to the elevator, Ziva blew a kiss to Tony over her shoulder.

Tony and McGee watched their retreating backs, mouths open in shock, wondering of what they had just witnessed had actually happened.

Ziva and Abby managed to maintain their composure while they stood waiting for the elevator. It was Abby who broke first, bursting into a crippling fit of giggles the millisecond the doors closed in front of them.

"I cannot believe you did that," Ziva told her, successfully holding back her laughter long enough to form a sentence.

"I can't believe you joined in!" Abby retorted between gasps of air, leaning back against the elevator wall for support. "Poor Tony," she said in mock sadness, "you could just see his little hopes soaring."

They lapsed into silence as they exited the elevator and made their way towards Abby's hearse. Ziva stopped on the driver's side, holding out an outstretched hand for the keys Abby dropped into it.

"It handles kinda heavy," Abby warned her, her words falling on deaf ears as they screeched out of the lot, Ziva fighting against the steering wheel of the Hearse while Abby pondered what mischief she could cause next.

-----

AN: I know. Nothing happened. That scene had been playing out in my head for the last week so I couldn't just ignore it… Hopefully it's not too bad. Never fear! Things actually happen in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: Post-Chimera. Abby takes Tony, McGee and Ziva to that Brain Matter concert they were _sooo _looking forward too. I should tell you now that this is going to be total Tiva at the end, and the end is nigh! The next instalment will be the last, my darling readers. So be prepared for some fluffy Tivaness.

Spoilers: Umm, parts one and two? No episodes are intentionally spoiled.

Disclaimer: Lawsuits suck. I'm merely borrowing them and I promise to return them after playtime.

Another random note: Exams are OVER! Done! Finito! My summer starts today! Yeah, you can tell I was getting sick of the school thing.

---

This was a crazy idea. _No, _she corrected, crazy was letting herself get dragged over here in the first place. Letting Abby dress her up and provide makeup tips was plain insanity. With a sigh, she stepped out of the bathroom and braced herself.

Ziva imagined Abby's squeal had probably been audible from New Zealand. She added to her outburst by jumping up and down on the spot, clapping her hands together in excitement.

"Oh, I am so _good!"_ she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the smaller woman and spinning them in violent circles. After a few moments Ziva managed to successfully disentangle herself from Abby, and she allowed a moment for the spinning in her head to subside. She stood back, eyeing herself in the full-length mirror on Abby's wardrobe door. She then compared herself to what Abby was wearing.

Abby had chosen to wear her favourite pleated chequered black and red miniskirt, complete with chain belt loose around her hips. She had a tight white t-shirt covered by a black leather half-corset that cinched in her already small waist, and a pair of her trademark chunky heeled boots. She was buckling on a studded dog collar and matching wristband when Ziva finally decided she wasn't sure about Abby's clothing choice for her. If Abby was Goth, Ziva believed she looked 'almost' Goth. Olive skin really couldn't pull off the pale thing, but Abby had done a good job of making Ziva feel decidedly uncomfortable – she'd never dressed herself up in quite such an exposed fashion.

"It is so… You." Ziva finally said. "This is nothing like what I would usually wear out."

Abby switched into persuasion mode. "Ok. First thing – surely you know you're pretty damn hot, right? Second thing – I know where we're going, you'll fit in great. Third thing – I can see Tony's face already, and it's going to be priceless!"

Ziva looked at her in shock, eyebrows raised. "If I wear this, will you stop going on about me and Tony?"

"Nope, not until you give up the denial act and get together," Abby replied with a smug grin, then immediately dissolved into giggles.

"How many shots did you _really _have?" Ziva asked with a knowing glance, pausing with a mascara wand halfway to her eye.

Abby looked up with an angelic expression from the carpet, where she had landed after losing her balance. "Only one," she stage-whispered.

Ziva pointed at the box of shots on Abby's dressing table. "There were eight shots in there. I have had one. There are none left!"

Abby responded with further giggles. Ziva rolled her eyes, dragging her up off the floor. "Time to go, before you are too drunk to give me directions."

---

Tony had been standing in front of his bathroom mirror for nine minutes.

So far he's discovered that he _really _needed to bust out the glass-cleaner.

He side-noted the fact that the revelation had absolutely nothing to do with getting ready to out.

He was fighting an internal battle – one that would have Abby in stitches, laughing her ass off, if she could see him right now – but nonetheless, it was a big decision.

He narrowed his eyes at the thin black pencil gripped in his right hand. "Only for you, Abby," he muttered at his reflection. "A little bit of my manliness dies now."

A few minutes later, Tony grimaced at himself and made a dash for the door before he could change his mind. Grabbing his keys, phone and jacket, he locked up and ran down to the garage, taking his mind off his appearance by busying himself wondering what the result of Abby's 'dress-up-Ziva' mission would be.

---

"Looook, Ziva! It's _Timmy!"_ Abby cooed, pointing out of the passenger's window as Ziva docked the huge vehicle next to McGee's shiny silver Porsche. McGee was leaning against the bonnet, looking decidedly uncomfortable in one of his expensive suits.

"McGee!" Abby scolded when she stumbled out of the car, "You didn't dress up!"

"Yeah.. Well, um… I'm sure Tony didn't, uh…"

"Bad Timmy!" Abby replied, grinning wickedly. "Tony will dress up. He promised me," she added, tapping her nose and winking.

"Well, you can find out now," Ziva informed her, gesturing in the direction of a bright red Mustang roaring into the parking lot.

"Tooneeeey!"

Ziva grimaced and pulled Abby out of the path of oncoming traffic, locking an arm around her waist as she watched Tony parked a few spaces down from the Hearse, lock his car… And walk into a trash can when he noticed her.

"_Fuck!" _he swore, rubbing his knee before sidestepping the bin and recovering with a wide grin. "You didn't see that," he told them.

"See what, Tony?" Abby played along, wriggling out of Ziva's grasp and staggering into Tony.

"That's the spirit, Abs," Tony replied, holding her up. He used the distraction of Abby's drunken behaviour to get a better look at Ziva's attire – if you could call it that. Abby had certainly done a good job in his opinion.

Peeking from the neckline of a black tie-waisted jacket was an equally dark lace corset, criss-cross ribbons meeting in a bow at the top. He couldn't tell much else, but whatever she wore underneath was short enough that it didn't show under the mid-thigh length of the jacket.

Somehow Abby had convinced her into wearing a pair of her black boots, though these were not the chunky lace-up style that Abby was so well-known for. Ziva's pair was more elegant, with pointed toes and thin three-inch heels, topped off with a single silver buckle at the top.

Her hair was straight and down, falling past her shoulders with her fringe sweeping across her forehead. Abby had obviously attacked her with makeup – giving her smoky eyes lined with kohl and impossibly long eyelashes accentuated by black mascara. Thankfully she'd left it at that. Tony really couldn't see Ziva in blood-red lipstick.

"You're _good, _Abs!" Tony praised her, not bothering to hide that fact that his elevator eyes had done more than their fair share of staring already. He was so busy looking at her that it took him a few awkward moments – and more giggling from Abby – to realize that he wasn't the only one surprised. He backed off a little under Ziva's curious gaze, suddenly feeling a little less confident about his choice of apparel.

Abby interrupted the silence with a small burp that set off a new set of giggles. She swayed away from Tony and fell back again, slamming into his chest, frowning as she inspected his face from a few inches away.

"Tony!" Abby exclaimed in horror, "Is that _eyeliner?"_

_---_

A/N: Hah. Yeah, I just HAD to leave it there. Sorry it was so short, I promise to make up for it with the final part! Oh, according to my computer, 'waisted' is not a word. Well it is now! I hope you're enjoying this, my dear readers. Remember to review! It makes my day when I get those lil' review notification emails :)


	4. Chapter 4

So here it is – the final instalment. Somehow what was supposed to be a post-ep one-shot has turned into a four-part Tiva fic… I hope y'all don't mind!As you know, this is my first NCIS fic, so my first shot at Tiva. I'm a hopeless romantic myself so I hope I haven't made this too OOC. Reviews = love.

Thanks to all the reviewers who gave me ideas and let me know what they wanted to see – I would have loved to continue but I've got another long-chapter fic on the way so decided to wrap this up now.

Enjoy!

----

"Omigod!" Abby yelled, bouncing up and down a few times to emphasize her excitement. "I love this song!"

Tony frowned, attempting to decipher the semi-familiar poppy beat in his semi-drunken state. They were in the main room of the club, waiting for the band to start their set so they could move into the smaller live room to watch.

"But you only listen to Goth stuff," he told her matter-of-factly.

"Noooo," she slurred, waving her finger in his face. "There are exe…cepa…exceptions."

"Okay Abs," Tony agreed, nodding, coming to the conclusion that believing her was a lot easier – and safer – than challenging her opinion, inebriated or not.

McGee, who had been surveying Abby's antics from a safer distance, piped up next. "Do you even know what song this is?" he asked doubtfully.

"'Course I do, silly," she insisted, swaying violently and bumping into Ziva, who was perched on the bar stool next to Tony's. Ziva grabbed her around the waist to prevent her falling back in the other direction and confiscated her half-empty drink, downing it herself in one go.

"Geez, Ziva," Tony said in amazement. "How can you keep drinking and still act normal?"

"Mind over matter," she said simply. "Do not overdo it and do not let the alcohol control you."

"Yeah, pity us mere mortals aren't so skilled," Tony joked. He had purposefully limited his alcohol intake from 'get trashed' down to 'get happy', just so he could take the opportunity to watch Abby at her most amusing.

Suddenly Ziva was being shoved out onto the dance floor by Abby, who then dragged Tony off his bar stool and pushed him away in a similar fashion.

Ziva focused a glare on Abby, who giggled childishly and winked at her. Noticing the look, Tony laughed and grabbed her by the wrists. "C'mon Ziva, you're not _scared _are you?" He teased, mimicking her words from earlier in the day.

Ziva gave him a raised eyebrow, loosening up a little as she allowed herself to move in time to the music. "Of dancing? Not at all."

Silence fell between them for a few moments, and Ziva mentally scolded herself for so obviously leaving Tony out of her reply. Was she scared of him? Not in the physical sense. Everybody, including Tony, knew that she could beat him to a pulp – if that was the expression – in her sleep.

"You like dancing, don't you?" Tony asked hesitantly, probably trying to decide whether his life was worth asking Ziva a personal question, just like earlier.

"Yes," Ziva replied, relaxing a little now that the conversation was back to normal. She was glad that Tony had not gotten so drunk he couldn't form coherent sentences. "I have always danced. It was the one thing I did outside of Mossad that was my own choice." Mentally grimacing at the seriousness in her tone, she attempted to lighten the mood a little. "Plus, it is fun, obviously."

The DJ increased the volume and they lapsed into silence again, Tony making no attempt to hide that fact that he was obviously watching her dance. Ziva pretended to ignore him, sneaking a glance occasionally.

She actually hadn't believed he would have made an attempt to follow Abby's instructions. He'd tried, and although the end result was more biker than Goth, he still looked great. He had on black trousers, Rambo-style (would Tony be shocked to discover that she'd made a movie reference? Ziva believed so) black CAT boots and a black shirt covered by a beat-up leather jacket. Abby's reaction to his 'eyeliner' had been a slight over-reaction – it was there, the tiniest thin black line of it – and it was a look he should _never _repeat, in Ziva's opinion.

"You know," Tony said, grabbing her by the waist for a spin when the beat sped up, "you look… really great tonight."

Ziva wanted to tease him for his awkwardness, but thought better of it.

"Thankyou, Tony," she replied, hoping that the thin layer of foundation she wore would hide her blush. "You are not so bad yourself," she added, relieved to be directing the conversation away from herself.

She didn't move back when he leaned down towards her, in fact she felt herself reaching up on her toes to get closer. She didn't protest – more out of shock than anything – when he kissed her, tasting beer mixed with Tony which she still remembered from that night undercover. There was that annoying-but-exhilarating feeling of electricity, until he pushed back away from her, leaving her standing, still shocked, with other clubbers still moving around them without noticing.

"Tony, what the -" she started to say, preparing to ask him what the hell was going on in his head, but before she could finish he'd turned away and forced himself back through the crowd towards the fire exit.

Sighing, Ziva turned back to Abby and McGee – who luckily hadn't been paying attention – and made her way back to them, frowning in confusion and still unsure as to what had just happened.

"It's starting!" Abby suddenly announced, grabbing their hands and dragging the small group across the room. She didn't even notice Tony's absence.

---

Ziva _hated _this. It was claustrophobic and sweaty and smelly and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves much more than her – Tony was still nowhere to be seen and McGee had conveniently disappeared after the band's first song, obviously not willing to put up with the atmosphere in the small crowded room.

Ziva estimated maybe two hundred people were rhythmically bouncing to the music, which consisted of unbelievably fast bass-heavy beats over-run by angry guitars. She couldn't even hear the vocalist thanks to the terrible quality of the sound. When she was struck on the head by a crowd-surfer for the third time, Ziva had had enough. She forcibly yanked her cell phone from the miniscule pocket in her skirt and unlocked it.

'Going 2 find T', she typed, and held the phone up in Abby's face. She nodded, still bopping in time to the music.

Ziva forced her way back through the crowd – with more elbowing and toe-stepping than was required – and gulped air when she broke out into the less-populated lobby area. Seeing no sign of Tony, she made her way towards the door, dodging bodies and on one occasion slapping away a wayward hand.

Stepping outside, Ziva was hit with a _whoosh _of chilly night air. She instinctively began stepping faster, her boots tapping out a rhythm on the asphalt below her feet.

The clouds that had earlier threatened Abby's hairdo had disappeared, giving way to a clear night sky dotted with sparkling white stars, and a full bright moon casting an eerie light across the expanse of the park, broken only by deep shadows thrown across the grass courtesy of the trees and surrounding buildings.

Pausing at the border where pavement his grass, Ziva stopped and listened. Heavy bass pumped out of the club, signalling that the show was over and most of the club's occupants had migrated to the main room where the DJ was. Traffic noise forced its way into the sound mix, competing with dogs barking and the faint sound of an extremely loud TV blasting out of an apartment building.

Stepping onto the grass, Ziva's boots were silenced as she made her way across to the small central lake, where a dark figure was leaning against the railing.

He didn't turn when she approached; they'd done that scary mental thing where each knew that the other was there without a doubt.

The lake looked like solid black ice, the smooth surface only broken when an acorn dropped off the tree above them and dove into the water with a small 'plop', sending ripples flowing out long after is had disappeared.

Ziva wondered why she was paying so much attention to a nut, when there was a much more important matter standing next to her. "You disappeared," she stated rather than asked.

"Yeah…" he half-answered, eyes focused on something in the distance.

Ziva huffed almost inaudibly, her frustration growing. Why was she so worried? Something bothered him. Obviously. The fact that he'd conveniently disappeared after kissing her in what appeared to be a moment of insanity… Now that just complicated things.

Her bare arms were beginning to get goose bumps – a light breeze was flowing through the park, just enough to stir up leaves and trash from the ground. Ziva wrapped her arms around herself as the first few drops of rain fell, but luckily the shelter from the large oak tree above was sufficiently covering them.

"Tony!" she said, the anger in her tone more evident than she had intended. He visibly flinched, but didn't turn to look at her.

"What, Ziva?" he shot back, the bitterness in his voice surprising her. "I had a couple drinks. Did something I shouldn't have. I came out here to think – alone."

"Thinking alone is dangerous," Ziva replied, ignoring the obvious hint that her presence wasn't exactly appreciated. She paused, wording her explanation carefully. "Alcohol breaks down barriers. Takes away uncertainty. Helps you to do things you would normally be too cautious to do." She noticed Tony watching her out of the corner of her eye and turned before he could look away, meeting his curious gaze with the full force of her own. "Or scared."

Tony was the first to break the staring contest, looking back out at the lake with something – regret? – clouding his eyes. "I just didn't want it to be…Heh. Nice how I'm screwing everything up lately, huh?" he replied with a sarcastic laugh.

"Tony, you did not -"

"I did," he cut in before she could finish, and Ziva was surprised to realize that they both knew what they were talking about, without actually mentioning it out loud.

"The first time we were undercover," he began, and Ziva flashbacked to that night at the hotel. Yeah, faking it, right? Keep telling yourself that, Tony. "This time I managed to get myself drunk and…"

"Third time lucky is the expression, yes?" Ziva queried, looking up at Tony with a tentative smile. She was sick of waiting for him to do something, and her outburst had obviously caused the sudden discussion they seemed to be having.

"Yeah," Tony replied, surprised at the change of mood and the fact she'd got an American saying right.

"Well, then," she replied, reaching up to run her hands through his hair, "What re you waiting for?"

She got impatient after a few seconds of Tony staring at her in shock, and pulled his head down to hers in an almost-violent movement. Ziva was certain the shiver she felt was nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the kiss. Tony felt it too; smiling against her lips with what she was sure would have been a smug expression. She wanted to be angry at herself for allowing Tony to know the affect he had on her, but she couldn't. It felt nice, to let her guard down just for a minute, and although she should have been uneasy, she couldn't shake the feeling of safety she got from the strong arms holding her around the waist, and the warmth of his back where her fingers gripped the leather of his jacket.

It was back, that tingle of electricity in her spine. She felt hopeful, energized and just so _alive_…

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So, I really hope you enjoyed it. Seriously – this is for all of you, after all. I love feedback, so please let me know if you've read it. Reviews make me smile. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, I can't wait to start posting my next fic so look out for it soon :)


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